


act 1, scene 1

by jockkurthummel (procrastinationfairy)



Series: McKinley School of Arts [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinationfairy/pseuds/jockkurthummel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kurt spies on the Warblers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	act 1, scene 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before I watched Glee, I always thought that all of the glee clubs were at McKinley. The New Directions, Vocal Adrenaline, the Warblers, all of them. So I decided to write a fic sort of inspired by how I thought Kurt and Blaine’s relationship went before I watched a single episode, also based off of McKinley’s set-up at the end of Season 6. All those glee clubs just happened to work out perfectly for me, the only exception being the substation of the Warblers for Duly Noted. And about Etranger—I will get an update out soon, I promise! I’ve been having awful writer’s block for months, but I’ve been trying to force out a few words every day. Hopefully, that will come your way soon!

Kurt knew _of_ the Warblers.  Of course he did.  The Warblers were one of the many glee clubs McKinley hosted, and Kurt was in glee.  He’d be an idiot not to know of his competition.  Still, there was a difference between knowing of the Warblers and knowing the Warblers themselves.

As the Warblers, along with their female-only counterpart the Troubletones, were an acapella group, so they sort of competed in an entirely different circuit.  Of course, technically, they could compete in the regular glee line-up, but the administration didn’t want to allow it.  There was no reason to cause unnecessary competition between classmates.  That really didn’t stop anything; all the McKinley glee clubs had an unofficial competition going about who would bring home the most trophies.

The New Directions have been winning that competition for years.  There are no worries, so far, but even Rachel Berry, the most obnoxious and stubbornly self-important of all the New Directions could admit that the Warblers have been catching up.  With the Warblers gearing up for acapella Nationals, it wasn’t any wonder that the New Directions were finally taking them seriously.

Kurt thought it was a little silly they hadn’t taken them seriously before.  McKinley was a performing arts magnet school.  Of course everyone in the school was going to be talented.  Still, the New Directions had always been lauded as the “good” glee club.  While the acapella groups weren’t necessarily bad, they simply couldn’t compare to the New Directions.  Until they did.

“You have to go and spy on them,” said Rachel one day at the end of practice.  As usual, everyone in the group was drop dead tired from dancing and singing their hearts out.  Hardly anyone looked at her, no one willing to be the person dragged into yet another one of her competitive schemes.  Instead, there were students lying face flat on the floor or draped across the chairs.  Santana and Quinn were already walking out the door—but, of course, they were Cheerios, so they were more than used to the exertion.  In the corner, Mike was wiping the sweat off his head with his sweatshirt while Tina tried to coerce him into removing his much thinner undershirt.

Kurt couldn’t contain a fond smile at that.  It seemed nice to have such a strong relationship.

“Kurt,” Rachel prodded.

He turned to look at her.  For a moment, he considered running off and driving home, but no, that wouldn’t work.  She was a pest.  Whatever she wanted to talk about, she’d find a way to talk about it.

Rachel inhaled slowly, and Kurt was surprised to see that even she had been affected by the rather extensive practice.  She brushed her bangs from her forehead, where they’d been sticking with sweat, and took a few deep breaths.  “You need to spy on the Warblers,” she said.

Kurt reached for his water bottle in his backpack and took a long drink.  “They’re not even technically our competition,” he said.

“ _Technically_ ,” Rachel stressed.  “You know everyone compares us.  We can’t fall behind.  We can’t show weakness.  Look, just take a look around and scope out their talent.  Maybe if they have any good singers, you can recruit them.  You might even finally find your perfect duet partner.”

Kurt raised a brow.  He highly doubted it.  He threw his head back and downed the last of his water before turning to walk into the hallway.  “Why are you asking me?”

Rachel followed him out the door and walked in front of him to the water fountain, surprised when he didn’t stop.

“That water’s not cold,” he said.  “I’m going upstairs.”

At the upstairs fountain, he refilled his bottle and took a long drink.  The fountain was a little messed up, and the flow uneven.  As he leaned back, he wiped the stray drops from his cheek with his sleeve.

“You know the dance,” Rachel explained after she herself took a drink, leaning against the wall for support.  Kurt followed suit.  He was pretty sure his legs were jell-o—stable, but not a very comforting thing to be supported by.  “But you’re not teaching it like Mike.  And you know the song.  So you won’t be missing anything by skipping out on one practice.”

He frowned.  From the next room, he could hear faint voices making a variety of garbled sounds.  He vaguely wondered how the human mouth could create such a noise.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked.

At this, Rachel gave a considering look.  “A solo,” she said.

A solo.  Of course.  That was show choir politics.  Trading songs and solos and features were all part of the business.  It was a little ridiculous how serious everyone took the whole thing.

“Make it two solos and a duet of my choice,” Kurt said.

Rachel smiled.  “Deal.”

Hey, it was life though.  Kurt could pretend he was above it, but solos were solos.  He wanted to sing on his own, and that was too rare.  “We need you in the background to even out the vocal range,” was the answer he’d always get from Mr. Schue whenever he complained.  Kurt knew that actually spoke of his talent, how he’d be placed on whatever part that needed another voice to stabilize it, but it still wasn’t the limelight.

That was why Kurt found himself skipping practice the next week.  When the final bell of the day rang and Kurt was freed from his precalc prison, instead of walking down the hall to the main choir room, he found himself headed across the school and upstairs to one of the smaller classrooms.  He stopped in front of the water fountain out of habit.  He reached for his bottle, but it was still full—he always refilled it before last hour because of glee.

By the time Kurt had arrived in front of the room where the Warblers practiced, practice must have started.  The door had been left open, so their voices echoed into the hallway, a barrage of noises and then a single lead voice, crystal clear and warm.  The voice reminded Kurt of how his dad used to mix in brown sugar to his carrots to make them taste sweeter when Kurt was a kid.  After a moment, he realized that thought was weird and put it out of mind.

He leaned against the wall just outside of the practice room, unwilling to intrude and reveal himself.  Just listening was spying, he thought.  He hadn’t even really been sure what Rachel had wanted him to do here.  Still, the lead singer had a very nice voice.  It sent a thrill up Kurt’s spine.  He found himself never wanting to move.

The Warblers went through a few songs, or maybe the same song a few times.  Kurt wasn’t exactly able to hear perfectly clear, and his ability to concentrate had been destroyed.  He’d always been a sucker for a nice voice.  The guy probably wasn’t even gay, but there were no rules that Kurt couldn’t enjoy a voice.  (He did very much enjoy Puck’s voice after all.  But only when he was singing, and not even during the lewder songs.)  Finally, the music stopped, and the voices turned to chatter.  They’d taken a break.

For a moment, Kurt wondered what exactly he was planning on doing when the Warblers all flooded out and found him spying.  Then he realized that that particular classroom that Warblers used had two doors, and luckily for Kurt, most of them seemed to be going out the other.

Unluckily, most was not all.

“Hey!” said one of the Warblers, a blond with a dye job so obvious even Kurt's dad would have noticed, though that did seem to be a little for effect.  Another followed him out, this one with darker hair, and he cracked a smile at Kurt.  The blond Warbler continued, “Are you getting a drink?”

Kurt froze.  He glanced to the water fountain behind him.  Right.  This was the good water fountain, the one he always used, and the one right next to the Warbler’s practice room.  “I am,” he said quickly, pulling out his water bottle

It was full.  He’d forgotten about that.

“The water is warm,” he explained as he stepped to the fountain and poured some down the drain.

Blond Warbler nodded understandingly.  “Yeah, the school really sucks about that.  I think this is the only water fountain that doesn’t taste and isn’t warm.”

The other Warbler was still silent with a raised brow.  Kurt started to ask him what he was staring at when he held out a hand.  “I’m Nick, and this is Jeff.  You’re one of the New Directions, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Kurt breathed his answer in more one sound than three, head bobbing along with his hand.  His espionage was obviously a failure if they recognized him.

“We figured,” said Blond Warbler—Jeff.  “You come up here all the time for this water instead.  I’m surprised your teammates don’t do the same.”

“Being on the New Directions calls for a good voice, not a good brain,” Kurt said dryly.  This yanked a laugh out of the other two.

Jeff looked over to Nick for a moment, and they exchanged a series of expressions that almost appeared to be a conversation.  Then Nick reared his head back into the practice room.  “Hey, Blaine, come out here!”

Kurt’s muscles tensed.  This had been a bad idea.  He couldn’t believe he’d let Rachel talk into this.  They were probably going to beat him, and they were calling the biggest guy in there—and Blaine was barely 5’8”.

“Oh, hi,” said the newcomer politely, also reaching out for Kurt’s hand.  His grip was a little tighter, and he didn’t let go of Kurt’s hand once they’d shaken.  The way his hand fell, and Kurt’s consequently, pulled Kurt a little closer to him.  From this angle, Kurt could see that he definitely had a few good inches on this guy, and this guy was cute to boot, dark hair gelled down that had a hint of a curl, honey-colored eyes, warm skin.  “I’m Blaine Anderson, Warbler captain.  You’re Kurt, right?”

Kurt paused and tilted his head.  He hadn’t even introduced himself to Jeff and Nick.  How . . . ?

“Hey, why don’t you listen in to our next song?  It would be great to have the opinion of someone on the best glee club in school,” Blaine suggested.

Kurt blinked rapidly.  “Oh, I, uh, um,” he said, but Blaine was already leading him inside.  Someone had pulled over a chair, and Blaine led Kurt to said chair.  Once he was sure Kurt was sitting down and comfortable, he backed up until he was among the rest of the group.

“I hope you like it,” Blaine said earnestly.  “We’ve been working hard.”

Then the group started to sing, and Kurt realized Blaine had the pretty brown-sugar-carrot voice, and he nearly smacked himself for using that metaphor again.  But he couldn't help it.  There was something about Blaine's voice that made him think of everything warm and homey and new and exciting.  Kurt could feel his face light up with interest, and he could see how that was noted by the choir, as they became a little more animated.

No one had ever made Katy Perry sound so appealing.

When the last voice had trailed off, Blaine stepped back in front of Kurt, eyes bright as he asked for his opinion.

“Uh . . . wow . . . ,” was all Kurt was able to get out.

Blaine beamed at the compliment, and all the Warblers smiled, clearly pleased that they’d managed to impress him.

“Almost makes you want to join, doesn’t it?” said one of the Warblers.  Kurt furrowed his brow at him, but then someone else made a remark about how his vocal range would have been a great asset, and Blaine, clearly eager to stop them from talking, offered to walk Kurt back down to his own practice.  Kurt was so dazed he didn’t even protest, hardly thinking about the fact that he hadn’t shown up in the first place today.

“You know, it’s really flattering that the New Directions sent a spy,” Blaine said as they descended down the stairs, arms linked.

Kurt’s face flushed under his freckles.  A wide smile spread across Blaine’s face.

“Your lead singer has a very loud voice, in all ways,” he explained.  “She might have chosen someone who doesn’t walk by our room all the time too.”

Kurt was flummoxed.  “You noticed me?  I mean, not you specifically, but, uh . . . .”

“Yes, we did notice you.  Me specifically,” Blaine said.

As they started to near the choir room, Blaine slowed down.  “So I guess this means the New Directions consider us rivals now?”

“I mean, we don’t even compete in the same circuit,” Kurt said slowly, “so I don’t see—“

“No, Kurt, see, we’re rivals,” Blaine cut him off, a very serious look on his face.

“You and me specifically?” Kurt joked.

Blaine nodded, a smirk toying at his lips.  “Yes.  And you know what they say rivals have, right?”

Kurt couldn’t seem to recall.  Blaine leaned, bracing himself on Kurt’s shoulders and smoothing out his collar.  He felt his face flush again, but he made no attempts to move away.  Blaine was just too gosh darn cute.

“Chemistry,” he said simply.

“I’ve never heard anyone say rivals have to have chemistry,” Kurt said.

Blaine carefully released him and stepped back, starting towards the Warblers practice room again.  “Well,” he said with a quick wink back in Kurt’s direction, “that’s what they will say when they see us.”


End file.
